


Parallel Communication

by Gargant



Category: Tales of Xillia
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-18 23:56:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4725023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gargant/pseuds/Gargant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He couldn't leave someone stuck under Bakur's thumb. Not even Rideaux deserved that.</p>
<p>(Canon AU where Julius invites Rideaux to live in his apartment, and the two attempt to raise Ludger together. Attempt being the key word.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parallel Communication

**Author's Note:**

> If this story concept sounds like sweet fluffy antics to you then I apologise because apparently I shouldn’t be trusted with fucking *anything*.
> 
> I wrote this as a warm-up exercise not really expecting it to become as long as it did. As such it's a bit unpolished! But my regular readers on tumblr enjoyed it (THANK YOU GUYS) so I decided to post it up here after all :>! That being said, don’t think too hard about how old any character is. Canon is weird about this anyway. It starts about fifteen years pre-game, imagine whatever makes sense to you.
> 
> additional warnings: mild sex references, mentions of alcohol/medication. light kresnikcest, but only if you want to read that into it. oh those kooky ambiguous brothers.

1.

“He’s my brother,” Julius said.

He saw Rideaux take the information in, going from wide-eyed and confused to narrow and calculating, looking Ludger over. Julius watched with private trepidation, not sure what reaction he wanted from Rideaux. This was a gamble he should never have taken, but taken it he had. No backing out now.

“We share a father,” Julius continued, before sharply stating, “That’s all either of you needs to know.”

Ludger, too young to ask questions, clutched his hand and looked nervous under Rideaux’s scrutiny. Rideaux’s expression seemed almost equally nervous, as though he had somehow never seen a child before.

“That’s nice for you,” He finally said, turning his attention back to Julius. “Why are you telling me this?”

Julius swallowed. He’d already done the worst part. He’d told Rideaux. One way or another he was going to have to make this work. “I’ve got an apartment. We’re going to be living there together.” Julius took a deep breath, and committed. “You should come too.”

-

The apartment had two bedrooms, each with a double bed. Naturally, Rideaux had insisted on taking one for himself, leaving Julius little choice but to share the other one with Ludger. Uncomfortable with the burden of a child he barely knew, he’d purchased a single bed for Ludger and taken the other double for himself.

Three people, two bedrooms, one bathroom. When Rideaux wasn’t hogging the mirror or getting his stupid hair products everywhere he was demanding access to the television, insisting Julius order them food, or just complaining endlessly about every little thing. Julius spent the first months wondering what had possessed him to invite Rideaux along at all.

But then, he couldn’t leave someone stuck under Bakur’s thumb. Not even Rideaux deserved that.

Ludger was timid of everything, but slowly settled into his new life. His nightmares became less frequent, he started to smile at other children and talk to the neighbours. He tried to help around the house. Julius, usually impatient with Rideaux, found himself warming to Ludger quicker than he expected to. He had a certain responsibility to him after— everything. No matter what choices he might make in the future, he could at least make sure Ludger was happy in the present.

The only thing that continued to frighten Ludger was Rideaux, and for that Julius couldn’t really fault him.

-

He kept secrets from Ludger for his own good. Telling him about Spirius was out of the question. That wasn’t something Ludger needed to know about. He’d already experienced too much in his life.

Ludger didn’t need to know about Bakur, either. The less anyone had to do with that man, the happier they’d be. Ludger didn’t need to know about the Chromatus, didn’t need to know why Julius took two watches to work every day. It was all to protect this child who had somehow come into his life. The child who was somehow suddenly his little brother. Julius told himself so many times he even almost started to believe it.

As for Rideaux… Julius didn’t tell him about the second watch either. At first it seemed important to keep it secret, later it had simply become habit not to mention it, and then it seemed that too much time had passed. If he mentioned it now it would only seem foolish. Julius kept his secrets hidden, and then one day Rideaux was insisting they order in food for their first year apartment anniversary and he was still keeping secrets.

But he was happier. He was happier than he’d been a year ago. That had to mean he was doing well, didn’t it?

And besides. He knew Rideaux was keeping secrets too.

 

2.

 

Julius wasn’t supposed to be home yet, never mind in his room asking ridiculous questions. Rideaux ground his teeth together to keep from swearing, easing up onto his elbows to greet the accusations being flung at him. “What are you talking about?” He growled, ignoring the bead of sweat he could feel running down his temple. Was it obvious? Could Julius tell?

“This,” Julius said again, scalpel-sharp. In his hand he held a small black container—he shook it for emphasis, and Rideaux grimaced at the familiar rattle of pills. “They were on the couch. Do you have any idea what would happen if Ludger got these?”

“Do you have any idea how little I care?” Rideaux snarled, digging his elbows deep into the mattress, trying to keep the tremble out of his limbs. “Why are you even here? Get  _out_.”

Julius’s eyes narrowed in plain disgust. “What are they?”

“What are what?” Rideaux asked back, knowing he was losing the thread of the conversation.

“What have you been taking?” Julius’s voice was dry, anger thrumming through his words. Rideaux closed his eyes.

“You’re being an idiot.”

“Rideaux. What have you been taking?”

“It’s nothing to do with you,” To his own ears his voice sounded desperate. Couldn’t Julius’s  _tell_? Why did he have to be so stubborn about every little thing? Why did he always have to  _know_?

“Rideaux, what—”

“It’s  _medicine_!” Rideaux finally snapped, and snapped again at the stupid surprised look on Julius’s face. “It’s medicine, for pain. It’s pain medication. I am  _in pain_. So if you could mind your own business and  _go away_  that would be  _wonderful_.”

Miraculously, Julius went. Rideaux let himself collapse back onto the bed with an audible groan, silently cursing the throbbing headache that now accompanied the feverish ache sluicing over his body.

It was less than a minute before Julius returned, bringing with him a glass of cold water. Rideaux turned his face away from whatever disgusting expression Julius was doubtless wearing. “This is why I didn’t want to live here,” He said, too tired and too far gone to keep the words back any longer. He heard the soft clink of glass being set on the bedside table, and felt the bed shift as Julius sat down next to him. Rideaux closed his eyes. “It’s always there. Every damn day. I didn’t need you seeing this.”

“Why? What did you think I was going to do?” Julius’s voice was firm but soft-spoken. Rideaux could hear the attempt at ironic humour underpinning his words—Julius had never been good at faking it. “Did you expect me to gloat?”

“That’s what I’d do,” Rideaux answered. Beside him, Julius snorted.

“It’s a good thing I’m not you, then.“ 

Rideaux started at the sensation of a hand over his, then felt the two small capsules being pressed into his palm. Rolling back over was difficult, but he managed it, daring to risk a look at Julius’s face. The expression that met him was one of absolute bland neutrality. The typical Kresnik defense—he should have expected it. Rideaux struggled back onto one elbow, accepted the glass Julius passed to him, and swallowed the capsules easily.

"You have no idea,” he said.

-

Ludger grew taller, and life grew easier. The kid turned out to be some kind of culinary savant, far better than either of them when it came to preparing meals. Rideaux wasn’t above putting Ludger to work for them, but surprisingly Julius went along with it, taking shameless delight in buying Ludger recipe books to help him improve.

“It’s something he enjoys,” He explained more than once. “You’re supposed to encourage children with their hobbies.”

“Of course,” Rideaux would always reply, smirking, “And the fact you’re turning him into your live-in maid is a complete coincidence.”

If Julius was ashamed, it wasn’t enough to stop him. He and Rideaux would head out to Spirius Corp. each morning, and when they arrived home Ludger would have food prepared for them. The house was always spotless, the pans always cleaned and stacked, the linen regularly washed and changed. If the days were hard—and they were, Bakur made sure of that—then at least the nights were something to look forward to.

Other things changed too. Rideaux had become accustomed to the obnoxious way that Julius would make a fuss over Ludger’s well-being. Now the overbearing caution had extended to include  _him_ as well. It should have been annoying, and yet it wasn’t. They’d known each other a long time, hadn’t they? If things were changing between them, maybe it was time to do something about that.

And Ludger really  _was_ getting to the age where he should have his own space.

Rideaux took care of things, just like he always did.

“Ludger,” He said one evening, the three of them all comfortably crowded around the television. Ludger looked up from where he was sprawled across the floor, eyes bright with interest.

Rideaux smiled at him, and casually flung one leg out to sprawl with lazy abandon over Julius’s lap. “How would you like to have a bedroom all to yourself?”

 

3.

 

They sold the single bed, and let Ludger keep one of the doubles.

Going steady with Rideaux was… strange. Julius thought back on his decision those few years ago, asking Rideaux to come and live with him and Ludger, and wondered if he’d always wanted this. There were times—usually in the middle of the night, before sleep but after sex—where he thought the answer had to be yes.

There were other times, though. Rideaux was moody, moodier than anyone else he’d ever known. Rideaux would take things out on him, or worse still, take things out on Ludger. Rideaux would go out drinking, or sometimes he’d just get drunk in the apartment. Sometimes, Julius wondered if it was worth the aggravation.

And there were other problems.

-

He woke up slowly, vaguely aware of Rideaux’s warmth pressed against his back, and another presence in the room. He could hear voices speaking—Rideaux and Ludger, who else?—and he very nearly let himself drift back to sleep. Then something in Ludger’s tone caught him. Julius lay still and listened.

“You’re too old to be having bad dreams,” Rideaux was saying. Ludger was so much younger than either of them, yet Rideaux still needled and belittled him. “Go away. Go back to bed.”

Ludger’s voice sounded embarrassed and fretful. “Julius used to let me.”

“I don’t care what Julius used to let you do. There’s no room.”

Through the darkness, Julius could hear Ludger sniffling. “It was a really bad dream,” He said, and Julius knew exactly what sort of dreams Ludger had—and exactly what memories were tied up in them. Julius rolled over abruptly, ignoring the startled noise Rideaux made as he sat up to look at Ludger.

“It’s okay,” He said, ignoring whatever sour look Rideaux was giving him. “How about I come in with you for a while?”

Ludger nodded, wide-eyed and fidgeting.

“Are you  _serious_?” Rideaux hissed, and Julius felt one of Rideaux’s arms lace around his waist, equal parts inviting and possessive. “Stay here. It’ll be much nicer.”

“Don’t be an idiot.” Julius muttered lowly, prying himself free without difficulty. Self-conscious, he slipped on some sweatpants before going to follow Ludger. “I’ll just stay with him until he falls asleep,” He whispered back over his shoulder before leaving the bedroom. Rideaux only scoffed.

“Take your time. More room for me.”

Once Ludger was tucked back in bed he gazed up at Julius with an expression of obvious expectation. With a sigh, Julius slipped into bed beside his little brother and tucked an arm around him. Arguing with Rideaux was going to be bad enough; he didn’t need to argue with Ludger as well.

This had been fine when Ludger was younger. Now, as Ludger nestled close against him, Julius had to wonder if Rideaux had a point. They couldn’t carry on like this as Ludger got older. In another few years this would cross into something inappropriate. When was he supposed to draw a line in the sand? And how? Julius stared at the ceiling, listening to the steadying sound of Ludger’s breathing, and asked himself—not for the first time—how he, of all people, was supposed to raise a child.

When he woke up it was morning, and Ludger had already made him breakfast. Rideaux was seated at the table, hair tied up in a messy morning look that Julius had become incredibly fond of in recent months.

There was a lot that needed to be said. Julius didn’t start the conversation, and Rideaux didn’t challenge him. When they went to bed that night, Julius told himself that it didn’t matter, and pressed Rideaux into the mattress.

 

4.

 

Rideaux looked at his GHS to find a message from Julius. Ludger had his first crush, apparently, and Julius had decided that was something worth caring about. Rideaux rolled his eyes, trying to figure out how the gawky little kid had somehow become old enough to start looking at girls. Whoever Nova was, he wished her the best of luck.

Jolyne was late meeting him, and had all the usual excuses when she turned up. Rideaux didn’t bother arguing with her—after all, she was always willing to pick up whatever tab he’d built in her absence. She joined him at the bar, passing over his usual prescription and everything else he’d asked her to find for him. Then, with a sly smile, she placed a slim folder on the bar top and looked at him expectantly.

“Am I supposed to know what that is?” He asked.

“Not sure,” She replied honestly. “But it’s Spirius, and it’s strange. One of my clients wasn’t sure what to do with it, so I decided I’d give it to you. Seemed like something you might be interested in.”

Rideaux picked up the plastic folder without a great deal of enthusiasm, flipping it open to scan the first few pages. It certainly was Spirius documentation, and it certainly was strange. How it had come to be in Jolyne’s possession, however… “More work. What fun. I hope you don’t expect me to pay you for this.”

“Consider it a freebie.” Jolyne winked, taking a sip of her drink. Placing the folder aside, Rideaux followed her example.

It wasn’t until the next day that a certain phrase popped back into his mind, two words. Seated at his desk, Rideaux flipped the folder open again and browsed through the contents until he found it.

_Soul bridge._

5.

 

They were watching some trashy soap opera of Rideaux’s, or at least that’s what they were supposed to be doing. Ludger, sitting on the floor, was busy playing with an defunct GHS prototype Julius had left lying around. Julius had long since given up trying to make sense of the nonsense playing out on screen. Instead he was watching Rideaux, the way Rideaux was picking his nails, the gleam in his eyes that reminded Julius uncomfortably of the way Rideaux looked after drinking too much. Distracted, far away from himself. And angry.

Rideaux was angry. Julius wasn’t sure he could handle that tonight.

“What would you do,” Rideaux asked, in the flighty abstract voice he always used when he thought he was being clever and indirect, “If you had to choose between me and Ludger?”

The first thing Julius did was glance at his brother—but Ludger seemed oblivious to their conversation, happily distracted with the device in his hands. Julius shrugged, faux-casual. “Why would I do that?”

Rideaux smiled disarmingly. It didn’t help. “That isn’t what I asked.”

“If you want to ask hypotheticals, try picking a lighter topic,” Julius temporised, trying not to think about the impossible questions he asked him _self_  when the other two were asleep. He could see the sparks flaring in Rideaux’s eyes, the final warning signs before yet another dramatic meltdown. “I would never pick one of you over the other. I’d find some other way. Sorry if that ruins your fun.”

“I bet you would,” Rideaux growled back. “You’d do whatever it took, wouldn’t you? No matter what the cost.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Julius snapped, baited too easily by a conversation that cut close to the bone. Ludger glanced up, shoulders hunched. Julius swallowed the harsh words that had already risen in his mind, unwilling to have yet another fight in front of Ludger. They had to stop doing this. “Rideaux, I don’t know what’s wrong, but calm down.”

This time Rideaux laughed, brittle enough that even Ludger knew to cringe from the sound. “You have no idea how selfish you are, do you?”

“ _Me_?” The injustice of it was enough to lure Julius back out, more incredulous than angry. “ _I’m_  selfish?”

“Unbelievably so.” Rideaux rose to his feet, nearly kicking Ludger in his thoughtless haste. Ludger shuffled away, clinging to Julius’s leg—a gesture that left Julius unable to follow as Rideaux stalked across the room and to the front door of their apartment. “You’re an idiot,” Rideaux said over his shoulder, and his gaze seemed locked on Ludger even though Julius knew the words were meant for him. It seemed that, for just an instant, Rideaux wrestled with some sort of private indecision. Then he turned away. “You’ll thank me one day.”

Julius could do nothing but lay an assuring hand on Ludger’s shoulder as Rideaux stormed away, disappearing down the hallway. It was hardly the first time he’d decided to throw a fit and leave the apartment. It wasn’t even the first time he’d done so without any obvious reason. Julius tried to tell himself that as he pulled Ludger up off the floor, offering to find them something more fun to watch together.

Ten minutes later, Ludger looked up at him with a shy smile and said, “I like it better when it’s just me and you.”

Julius made himself smile in return, but didn’t respond. For the first time, he considered Rideaux’s question.

-

In the morning, Rideaux still hadn’t returned. Ludger, bustling about making breakfast for two, seemed to have forgotten last night’s secret confession and had taken to fretting. “When is he coming back?” He asked plaintively as he laid out the cutlery—the empty space at the table loomed uncomfortably between them.

Julius had no answer, but spoke anyway. “He’ll be at work today. I’ll bring him home. What should we make him for dinner?”

“He likes fish!” Ludger replied, and spent the rest of breakfast happily planning a meal far too extravagant for a child his age to be making. If he wasn’t so damn good at it, Julius might have felt guilty.

-

But Rideaux wasn’t at work either. Julius had tried to convince himself that this was nothing worse than another one of Rideaux’s tantrums, that Rideaux would reappear at any moment to smugly announce just how very stupid he and Ludger were for worrying.

But by the time Julius reached the apartment building that evening he was near frantic with concern. This wasn’t normal. Something was going on, and Rideaux had shut him out instead of telling him. Had he gone off to some fractured dimension without telling anyone, gotten into trouble? Was he hurting somewhere, alone and undefended? Julius stepped out of the elevator and turned toward their apartment, hoping beyond hope that Rideaux would be there. That Rideaux would be waiting for him.

The door was guarded.

Julius froze at the sight of Spirius agents outside their apartment. There were too many questions— _how? why? why **now**?_ —and for a split second he considered running. Then he remembered Ludger, scared dependent Ludger just beyond that door, and nothing else mattered. Julius reached into his jacket, grasped his watch, and started forward.

When they finally overpowered him, pinned him down and cuffed his hands, Julius saw that the apartment door had already been forced in.

-

They didn’t bring him to Bakur’s office. Instead Julius found himself taken into a basement room, escorted to what appeared to be some sort of makeshift holding cell, and unceremoniously pushed inside. The door slammed shut behind him, leaving no view and no comfort. Left to himself, hands still bound behind his back, Julius retreated to a far corner and tried to calm his thoughts.

It was impossible. When the cell door opened again, a mere thirty minutes later, Julius was still shaking, laced with an adrenaline fuelled by fear. Fear for his family—for the sweet-natured brother he’d chosen to love, and the impossible man he’d chosen to be with.

It was Bakur who entered. Of course it was. Julius grit his teeth, not sure whether to make demands or stay silent. Bakur waited expectantly, giving him the chance to speak—Julius squared his chest and said nothing at all.

“No questions?” Bakur asked. Then, as the silence lengthened, he opened his hands. “I don’t do these things to spite you, Julius. I extended a hand of trust in letting you live the life you chose. I’m disappointed you didn’t trust  _me_ with what you found.”

_What you found_ , like Ludger was some object to be presented, some pretty treasure picked up on a shoreline. Julius growled, a low rumble deep in his chest.

“You’ll be pleased to know,” Bakur continued, “That Ludger is safe. He’s been asking for you. If you can promise to behave yourself, you’ll be allowed to see him. You might not believe it, but I’m not in the habit of hurting innocent children without reason.”

_That_ almost drew a response. Julius clenched his hands into fists, straining fruitlessly against the bounds binding them behind his back. If Bakur noticed he certainly didn’t care. Instead he turned, leaving the room without fanfare. Julius expected the door to slam closed behind him. Instead he heard Bakur issue an order. “Make sure it’s locked when you’re done.”

Then two guards flanked into the room, taking up position on either side of the open cell door. Between them, as casually as if they were still at home together, stepped Rideaux.

His hands were unbound, his palms empty and open. He was smirking, a practiced expression long since emptied of meaning.

Julius’s stared, mouth dry and heart thundering echoes in his chest. Rideaux wasn’t hurt. Rideaux was okay, Rideaux was… Julius shook his head, fear and anguish seeping through the anger, dizzying and confused. “Tell me you didn’t.”

Rideaux spread his hands. “What does it look like? Believe me, Julius. There’s a lot you don’t understand.”

“Believe you?” The words rang hollow in his mouth. Julius swallowed, tasting bile and empty air. “Why? Why would you do this? How could you—”

Rideaux cut across him, voice slithering soft yet sharp enough to draw blood. “It was easy, actually. I’d do it again.” His voice rose, taking a maniacal edge—the voice of a man justifying to no one more than himself. “You have no idea, Julius. You don’t know what you owe me.”

“And what does Ludger owe you, you bastard?” The guards both tensed, but Julius’s voice only rose further, the tension snapping out of him all at once. “He’ll use Ludger the same way he’s used both of us! Why would you do that to him? We were a family!” Julius choked on the word, rage and realisation gagging him in equal measure. Rideaux continued staring at him, eyes glassy and unwavering. “Just— get out of here. Don’t make me look at you.”

For a minute, he thought Rideaux was going to say something else. Then, sharply, he turned on one heel and motioned the two guards to leave the room. Following behind them at a sharp clip, he looked back over his shoulder for only one hesitating moment. It was so familiar that Julius knew what he was going to say before the words even left his lips.

“You’ll thank me one day,” Rideaux said, and walked away.


End file.
